Retroactive Continuity
by Janto.CP.writer
Summary: In an abandoned facility concealed beneath the Thames, Torchwood is is about to have their lives turned upside down.
1. Prologue

AN: This is my first foray into Torchwood fan fiction. I know this is probably terrible, but I still want to share. Any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

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8 July 2009

London

"This is wrong," a technician muttered to himself as he watched the screen in front of him; fear clearly etched on his face. His fingers flew over the keyboard in front of him, pulling up various CCTV feeds before transferring selected series of images to a portable data pad.

Leaving his monitoring station, he scurried through the dark concrete corridors towards the Director's office.

Michaela, the Director's PA sat at her desk outside his office and glanced up at the tech as he burst through the heavy oak door.

"We've got problems, Mick," he said without preamble. "I've got to see him."

Seeing the panic clearly etched on the man's face, she quickly pressed the door release button concealed beneath her desk and the frosted glass door leading to the Director's inner sanctum swung open.

"Dammit, Micka," the Director barked, "I told you I did _not_ want to be interrupted."

"I apologise, Director," the tech muttered, "but there's a problem. Number twenty-eight is no longer operative."

The Director pinned the frightened tech with a glare. "What?" he whispered, his voice concealing the wrath the tech's words set ablaze within him. "Show me."

Hands shaking, the man handed the data pad over and watched as the Director transferred the information on it to his computer terminal. His eyes flickered over the images displayed on his monitor, only the slight tightening around his eyes giving away his increasing fury.

"I want to know how this happened," the Director finally said. "And I want to know _now_!" The final barked word made the tech jump on the spot before scuttling back out of the office to his station.

"Shit!" the Director muttered to his empty office. "This is not good." With a few simple keystrokes, he brought up a new set of CCTV live feeds; the images on his screen showing a cavernous room filled with man-sized glass tubes. Each tube, complete with monitoring station built into the base, held gently bubbling clear fluids giving the handful of lab-coated men and women clear views of the contents.

Zooming one particular camera in for a clearer view of the contents of one of the tubes, the Director caressed the screen, his fingers tracing the outline of Ianto Jones's face. "Don't worry, my son," he whispered. "Da will fix this." A single tear traced its way down his cheek as he continued staring at his son's face. "Again."

TBC.

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What do you think? Continue?


	2. Chapter One

7 July 2009

Cardiff

A smoking crater is all that remained of Roald Dahl Plas. The sun had set hours ago, taking with it the rescue personnel who had tried sifting through the wreckage as they searched for potential survivors.

The wind, blowing in off of Cardiff Bay, ruffling the yellow crime scene tape and whistling through the wreckage of Torchwood 3 carried with it the screams of agony as the pieces of Jack Harkness's body not recovered by Agent Johnson slowly began to reform into a whole body.

Naked, covered in dust and ash, Jack Harkness scrabbled through the wreckage to make his way to the surface. Quickly padding barefoot into the shadows, Jack headed off into the night—keeping to the shadows as much as possible—to the house he lived in before taking over leadership of Torchwood.

White drop cloths covered the furniture inside, looking for all the world like dusty misshapen ghosts. Jack paid them no heed, though, choosing instead to make his way to the bedroom. Normally, Jack didn't mind in the slightest being naked, but without his favorite Welshman as equally naked it just didn't seem as much fun as it used to.

"Ianto," Jack whispered into the darkened room. Jack new something had to have gone terribly wrong for his lover to not be there when Jack revived. The last thing Jack could remember was seeing the look of pain on Ianto's face as he rode the lift up to the Plas; the computer counting down to the inevitable explosion. A shudder snaked its way down Jack's spine at the remembered agony of the bomb literally blowing him into pieces.

Little did he know that at that exact moment, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys and the Jack they had rescued from his concrete cell were in an abandoned Torchwood warehouse trying to figure out why the government had tried to kill them all.

First off, I'm sorry this is so short, but I just had to address what happened to the "rest" of Jack aside from the bits Agent Johnson "recovered". I promise, I'll get back to the Director and Ianto next chapter.

Special thanks to all of you who have reviewed and/or alerted this story, You all keep me writing.


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